


The Ninth Parry

by salamandercity



Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-04 08:48:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandercity/pseuds/salamandercity
Summary: Pre-Maestro, missing scene fic. Something to fill in the gaps from Entreri going from refusing to exist in the same city as Jarlaxle to asking for his help.





	1. As The Ice Will Go

_**T** **he ruins of Port Llast** _

The sun was setting over the waves on the distant horizon. Orange ripples, long shadows. A single man walked over to a ruined building and climbed up the eaves. He reached under, fingers searching carefully. He scowled, finding nothing.

Jarlaxle walked out of the shadows, the jeweled dagger in his hand.

"I knew you'd have to come back for this eventually," he said.

Artemis Entreri dropped back to the street and shook his head in disgust. "Of course you did."

"We need to talk."

"You need to give back my dagger before I cut your fingers off and make you eat them."

"That will be difficult to do without this." The dagger flashed orange in the fading sunlight.

"I'll improvise."

Jarlaxle sighed heavily, then walked over and carefully placed the dagger on the stones between them.

"There. A sign of good faith." Jarlaxle retreated several feet. "But I would like it if you stayed."

Entreri walked over and picked up the dagger, eyes constantly watching Jarlaxle for movement. He started to back away, eyes never leaving the potential threat, before stopping.

"What are you playing at, Jarlaxle?"

"I do not know what you mean."

"You rescue us from Draygo Quick, only to betray our location to the drow in Port Llast. If it weren't for you, we would still be petrified. If it weren't for you, Dahlia would yet live." He shook his head and looked out at the waves. "Are you a friend or an enemy, Jarlaxle?"

Jarlaxle frowned.

"I didn't betray—" he started. Entreri cut him off with a snarl.

"They got their information from Bregan D'aerthe," His knuckles were white on the hilt of his dagger. Jarlaxle tensed again, ready to defend himself. He sighed when no attack was forthcoming.

"Bregan D'aerthe is not me." Jarlaxle crossed his arms before remembering that humans saw it as an obstinant gesture, rather than the surrender it was. "If you'd listen to me, you'd know there are times when they've acted against my interests. This is surely one of them."

"And why should I believe you?"

Jarlaxle found that he didn't have an answer. Entreri began walking away.

"I didn't mean to leave you behind." The words leapt from Jarlaxle's mouth before he could think about them. He raised a hand in the air as if to call them back, but it was too late. Entreri turned to regard him with disdain.

The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the light a cold dull blue. The waves crashed against the rocks in a constant roar. Jarlaxle's heart pounded in his ears and he felt cold.

"But you still did."

Before Jarlaxle could find the words to stop him, Artemis Entreri had vanished into the growing night.

-

_**Some months later, on the outskirts of Menzoberranzan** _

Jarlaxle frowned, ears twitching. He'd heard a low groan in the shadows of the cavern just to his left. Following mysterious sounds in the Underdark was often suicidal, but something about it caught his attention. He went to investigate.

The source of the sound was a human who had curled up behind a stalagmite. There was a coppery tang to the air that told Jarlaxle he was bleeding badly. The scent would attract predators soon enough. He looked back for monsters or observers, then walked forward, boots clicking against the stone, until he was close enough to recognize the huddled form.

"Artemis?"

Entreri looked up, grey eyes wary. He had one hand over the wound in his side. The other clutched his dagger. He bared his teeth.

"Jarlaxle."

Jarlaxle took the acknowledgement of his existence as permission to approach. He stayed out of reach and pulled out his healing orb. He held it up, half offer, half question.

Entreri hesitated for a long second, then nodded. Jarlaxle looked down at the bared dagger pointedly. Entreri scowled at him and put it back in its sheath. Jarlaxle knelt and started using the orb to seal the jagged cut along Entreri's side.

He paused long enough to ask "What are you doing down here?" He kept his voice low, unsure if he was being careful of predators or trying not to provoke the injured human. Entreri chuckled, then winced as the movement strained his injury.

"Trying to find Dahlia." He shook his head.

"You've heard she is alive, then."

Entreri nodded.

"You knew?" he asked. He didn't sound surprised.

"I've known for several months." Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow and continued. "I would have passed along the information if I could. You've been hard to find."

"Bad things happen to me when you know my whereabouts."

Jarlaxle took the rebuke without wincing. It wasn't getting easier, but he was learning to anticipate them.

"So you decided to look for her on your own?"

"Drizzt is busy with his own problems."

"I could help you." _If you would deign to ask me.  
_  
"Like you helped me with the flute or like you helped me with the Netherese? I'm not sure I care for either method."

"Would you prefer I walk away and let you bleed to death?"

Entreri's jaw twitched and he looked away.

"Fine," he spat. "Help me. We need to get into the city, rescue Dahlia, then escape. Any suggestions?"

Jarlaxle balked. When he'd offered help, he'd been anticipating finding information, providing supplies. All kinds of things that would give him time to convince Artemis to abandon his reckless mission.

Entreri seemed to realize the meaning of his silence. He laughed hollowly.

"That is what I thought." He pushed against the ground, trying to stand, despite the half-healed wound.

"Wait." Jarlaxle pressed a hand against Entreri's chest to stop him from rising. At Entreri's expression, he pulled it away and spoke quickly. "I meant it. I want to help, and I'll do it. But only if you agree to listen to me. We need more information." _And allies_ , Jarlaxle added silently.

Entreri's silence was ominous.

"Do you even know where to start looking for her? I'll help, but we do this my way."

"Or what?"

"Or I walk away and allow you to get yourself killed on your own, and Dahlia will still be trapped."

Jarlaxle waited, wondering if Entreri would recognize the bluff for what it was. But instead Entreri closed his eyes, resting his head against the stone with a soft thud.

"Fine," he said, opening his eyes again. Jarlaxle grinned and took a step back. He offered a hand to help pull Entreri to his feet, but was brushed away. He put his arms behind his back, folding his hands together to stop them from reaching out again.

"I will need to put together some supplies and gather information," he said, bouncing lightly on his feet. His heart was racing. "And you cannot stay at Bregan D'aerthe's headquarters. One of my soldiers might see you. As I said earlier, my control over who they give information to is... imperfect."

"I've no desire to go there again, at any rate."

"I have several other places I could hide you. They're closer to the surface, but you won't be in danger."

"Except from you. I do not need your assistance in finding a place to stay."

"If there is a window of opportunity to rescue Dahlia, it could be quite short, and I do not care to waste precious time finding you again simply because you find my presence distasteful."

Entreri glared at him and Jarlaxle knew there would only be so many times he could use this argument. But eventually he nodded.

"Very well." His shoulders slumped and Jarlaxle realized just how exhausted the man looked. His shakiness and drawn face weren't entirely due to blood loss. "Lead the way."


	2. The Ninth Parry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis inches slightly closer towards tolerating Jarlaxle again.

Nothing lit the abandoned building except for occasional flashes of lightning, filtered through the dusty windows. Inky shadows obscured the rotting floorboards that creaked with every gust of wind or ripple of thunder. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, since it meant they could see the mold creeping out of the dark corners of the room—both of the people within had darkvision.  
  
Water puddled on the floor as they peeled out of their sodden clothes. Jarlaxle overturned his hat, pouring out rainwater that had collected along the upturned brim.  
  
"This is the only safehouse Kimmuriel doesn't know of," he said by way of apology. Artemis drew a finger along the windowsill, leaving a line in the dust.  
  
"It'll do," he said, wiping the dust off. A dull ache when he moved reminded him that the cut across his ribs wasn't quite healed. A dull ache in his chest when he looked at Jarlaxle reminded him that he'd be better off running far, far away. He ignored them both and walked over to inspect the hearth. There were bird dropping splattered across the stones.  
  
When he looked up, Jarlaxle was still standing by the door, hat in hand.  
  
"You're still here," Artemis said.  
  
"My cloak is still wet." A crack of lightning exposed the room in white. The patter of rain against glass crescendoed as he spoke. "And even I'm not shockproof."  
  
With one more sour look at Jarlaxle, Artemis leaned against the wall and drew his weapons. He pulled a dry rag from a leather pouch and began to dry and oil each of them in turn, starting with his jeweled dagger and belt knife before moving on to the smaller knives hidden in pockets or under clothing. As he worked, Jarlaxle walked over and settled on an empty crate to watch. Artemis considered driving him off, then decided it didn't matter; Jarlaxle already knew where he kept his knives.  
  
The silence that settled over them was almost companionable. If Artemis ignored their surroundings and made himself forget several decades, he could almost imagine the two of them back in Heliogabalus, doing exactly this. He didn't dare glance at Jarlaxle, unsure if he would see the same echoes of remembrance there, and not sure how he'd feel if he did.  
  
Safer to break this now, he decided.  
  
"What are you expecting to get from this?" he asked. He used the dagger he was holding to watch Jarlaxle's reflection. Jarlaxle stared at him and for a moment, his smile flickered out of existence.  
  
"I know not what you mean."  
  
"Everything has a price." He recognized one of Alegni's favorite aphorisms as it left his mouth and spat, as much to remove the bitterness as to give himself a moment to hide the shudder. "Your _assistance_ most of all. I'd know it now."  
  
In the dagger, Jarlaxle's expression was almost mournful. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He sighed.  
  
"I'd ask your forbearance," Jarlaxle said. Artemis raised an eyebrow, wondering what request Jarlaxle had considered, then held back. "I wish to tell you about what happened in Baldur's Gate."  
  
"Why?" He was out of daggers to clean. For a moment, he considered dirtying them with Jarlaxle's blood, but he reminded himself of Dahlia and resisted.  
  
"It might make you hate me less."  
  
_You think anything could do that?_ Artemis thought. But what he said was  
  
"And that is worth the effort to you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"If you cared so much for my regard, perhaps you shouldn't have given me to the Netherese."  
  
Jarlaxle winced at that.  
  
"They were only supposed to have you for a few hours."  
  
There it was. The thing he'd been trying not to think about since Jarlaxle said it in Port Llast.  
  
"Why would you tell me that?" His voice sounded raw to his own ears. A thousand moments of frustrated daydreams and false hopes all surged back in an instant, ripping open wounds that had been scarred over for decades.  
  
Jarlaxle seemed to realize he'd stepped into something fragile. He drew back and waited several moments before answering.  
  
"It's true. If you—"  
  
Artemis cut him off with a glare and stood up. He walked over to the pile of broken furniture in one corner and broke off a chair leg. Jarlaxle shifted on the crate but didn't otherwise betray any fear. He raised his eyebrows as Artemis walked past him to the hearth. Another crack of lightning illuminated the room.  
  
"Artemis?" Jarlaxle sounded bemused.  
  
Artemis didn't answer.  
  
"Why are you climbing up the chimney?"  
  
_To get away from you_ , Artemis thought. But what he said was  
  
"There is a bird's nest up here." He coughed as soot got into his mouth. "If I start a fire, smoke will fill up the room."  
  
Now that Jarlaxle couldn't see him, he tilted his head down and took in deep breaths, rattling the chair leg against the nest overhead to obscure the sound. His hands shook. _He meant to come back._ The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. _He meant to come back but something stopped him._  
  
How dare he tell me this now.  
  
He waited until his breathing settled and then reached the chair leg up until he felt resistance. Sticks and feathers fell on his face. He jabbed at it furiously until the way was clear, then climbed back down.  
  
When he emerged, Jarlaxle smiled. In the flicker of lightning, he could see his arms were streaked with soot. Jarlaxle pursed his lips.  
  
"You have feathers in your hair," he said, fingers tapping against the crate. Artemis ran a hand through his hair, shaking out ashes and downy feathers. From the way Jarlaxle's eyes lingered on his face, he suspected he'd missed some. He shrugged and turned to making a fire.  
  
"I accept your price," he said, organizing broken pieces of furniture into a tripod. "You can tell me your side of the story."  
  
Jarlaxle uncoiled like a spring and opened his mouth. Artemis cut him off.  
  
" _After_ we rescue Dahlia," he said.  
  
Jarlaxle closed his mouth. Was he wondering if Artemis was going to renege, to ignore him again once he'd gotten his half of the deal? If he did, it would only be what Jarlaxle deserved. But no, he wanted to know now. At least, he thought he did. But if this was the only coin he had to buy Jarlaxle's cooperation, better not to spend it now. He went back to lighting the fire.  
  
As it crackled into life, Jarlaxle leaned forward.  
  
"What you want—this task is a dangerous one," he said. Thunder rumbled in the distance. "We might both die."  
  
Artemis glanced at him and shrugged. He'd long ago resigned himself to death and he no longer cared what happened Jarlaxle.  
  
"What is your point?" he asked.  
  
"Just that you must care for her very much," Jarlaxle said wistfully. He reached toward the flames, letting the dry heat brush across his fingers.  
  
_I used to care just as much about you,_ Artemis thought. _But that wasn't enough for you then._ He bit his tongue hard enough to hurt until he'd swallowed the desire to say that out loud. No sense giving Jarlaxle any more information than he already had.  
  
"I imagine your cloak is dry now," he said instead. "Do you not have information to search for?"  
  
Jarlaxle drew his hands back from the fire with a sigh. His boots made no sound as he walked over to the door and draped his cloak around his shoulders.  
  
"I'll return when I've found something," he said quietly, his hand at the latch. Artemis nodded. A small part of him marveled; Jarlaxle had never been so easily pushed away before. He could feel the same edge of fear that he got from trying to block an attack that didn't come, sharpened by the knowledge that another lunge was coming and he couldn't dodge what he didn't see.  
  
After Jarlaxle faded away into the rain, Artemis wondered if he should find somewhere else to hide. Jarlaxle had betrayed him once before, after all. What if this was another trap?  
  
He didn't make his decision for several hours, until the flame had died entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted these to dreamwidth a while back as two separate fics on dreamwidth, entitled "As the Ice Will Go" and "The Ninth Parry," respectively. ("As The Ice Will Go" is a quote from Robert Frost's "To the Thawing Wind." "The ninth parry," also called "Cob's Traverse," is not a parry at all—it is a retreat.)


End file.
